


Spider-Man: Summer Vacation

by flightlessboy



Series: Spideyfools [1]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Big brother Wade Wilson, Gen, I couldn't justify tagging them all, Memory Loss, More characters but only mentioned by name, Teenage Peter Parker, at least... not this time, there's no shipping don't squint I didn't even write it in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightlessboy/pseuds/flightlessboy
Summary: "My name is Deadpool. And I… am your fairy god-brother."In which Spider-Man has his mind wiped, and Wade has to figure out what to do with an amnesiac super-teenager.





	1. Chapter 1

Whatever it was, it was _far_ beyond standard human technology. And it came out of nowhere. Wade was thoroughly involved with a man twice his size wielding a machete, which had already taken one of his less-crucial fingers. Whatever. Spider-Man was swinging around like fucking Cirque du Soleil,  antagonizing two other baddies with swift kicks – slowly angling them towards a dumpster.

Spider-Man managed to kick one of the men in, and was just moments from landing a solid blow on the other when a blinding yellow light lit up the alley. The young hero went limp immediately, momentum carrying him into the second man, who dropped something as they landed harshly in the alley. Wade turned his head, assessed the situation in less than a second, and ducked under his opponent’s next swing.

“Sorry, Hodor, we’ll have to pick this up another time.” Wade drew a knife from his boot and lodged the blade firmly between the other man’s legs. He doubled over and howled in agony. “Yeah, you should probably get that checked out.”

He turned towards Spider-Man, who was still not moving. Strange. Strange and bad. The man beneath him had just begun to shift and groan, hand reaching for the poorly-hidden gun in his pants. The mercenary moved before he could even think about what he was doing.

“Hey now,” Wade warned, cocking his own gun and standing directly over the man. Sure, he wasn’t gonna kill the guy, but staring down the barrel of Deadpool’s gun was enough to give pause to anyone with half a lick of sense. This guy seemed to have _at least_ that. The man gave up, dropping his hands to the ground and grunting in defeat. “That’s what I thought.” Spider-Man still hadn’t moved. “What did you do to him?” At this, the man on the ground grinned. Only a real asshole could give a full, toothy grin with Deadpool’s gun in his face and an unconscious Spider-Man on top of him, and this guy was a card-carrying real asshole.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilted his head uncomfortably, looking at something on the ground by Wade’s feet. It was metal, about five inches in length, and slightly resembled a bullet in shape and color. Wade followed his gaze, but held the gun steady.

“Wait, all this is about _sex toys_? Hah, and here we were thinking you three were robbing a bank. The whole guns, masks, and oversized burlap bag getup was really convincing. Will this give me the clap?” Wade picked it up between two fingers, careful not to touch the single toggle switch. “Is this a ‘dress for the job you want, not the job you have’ thing you’ve got going on?” He looked closely – there was what appeared to be a small camera on the flat end. If one held it from the other side, the switch would be within easy reach of a thumb.

“Go ahead,” the robber offered, “take a look for yourself.” Wade treated the thing like a gun, best not to look down the barrel and pull the trigger. No, he had a better idea. Wade holstered his gun.

“If you insist!” His voice sounded cheery, but the threatening undertone was not lost. Wade leaned over the man, gently pushing the unresponsive Peter aside (and quickly checking for a pulse – yes – there it was.) Without hesitation, Wade pointed the camera end at the man on the ground and flipped the switch before the man had enough time to protest. There was the same bright light, and the guy fell completely limp. Unconscious. “Huh. How the hell did small-time bank robbers get their hands on something like this?” Wade mused aloud to himself.

From the dumpster there was a small groan, and the third robber popped his head out from beneath a trash bag, looking considerably worse for the wear. “Hey!” Wade got the guy’s attention, holding the device up for him to see. “How the hell did small-time bank robbers like you get your hands on something like this?” The man paled.

“Please! Please, I have a family! Please don’t use it on me!” He ducked back under the rim of the dumpster. Wade stepped over the unconscious man at his feet and approached, poking his head in to get a better look at the guy.

“Ooh, that scary huh? I’ll tell you what.” Deadpool reached into the dumpster and grabbed the terrified man by the collar of his shirt. “You tell me all about my new toy and where it came from, and I won’t use it on you.”

“I – I really don’t know where it came from! Bill got it from some arms dealer who sells to small-time criminals, but I don’t know who or where, I swear!” The guy put his hands up, face deathly pale. “Please don’t wipe my memory, man.”

“Oh, of course I won’t –“ Wade dropped the man. “Wait, please don’t wipe your _what_?”

“It knocks people out and takes their memory, please, I don’t want to forget my wife and kids.”

“Oooooohhh… sick. Don’t worry, I won’t nebulize ya. Who do I look like, Agent W?” Wade paused for a moment. “Anyways, what’s your name?” The man stood up in the dumpster as Wade tucked the device into one of the pouches at his waist.

“Charlie?”

“Well,” Wade patted Charlie on the cheek, “that’s for all your help. I’d say you’re a real mensch, but actually I think you suck. Say hi to the wife and kids for me.” Wade landed a punch that knocked the robber unconscious. He fell back into the bags of trash. “Huh, right where you belong after all.”

Wade turned back to Spider-Man, still frighteningly still. His chest rose and fell steadily, which was a relief, but the kid (and Wade knew for a fact that he _was_ just a kid) was otherwise lost to the world. He picked up the young hero, carrying him bridal-style, and began the walk back to his own apartment. Wade stuck to alleys as much as possible on the way – there’s no telling what would happen if someone saw Deadpool carrying an unconscious Spider-Man.

“Ugh, someone needs to get this kid a cheeseburger. No, wait. I need to get this kid a cheeseburger. No, wrong again. I need to get this kid some fuckin’ chimichangas.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wait a second. You're trying to tell me that Peter Parker would wake up in Deadpool's dingy apartment and not immediately freak out?"
> 
> This isn't a documentary. Enjoy the ride!
> 
> *This chapter has been edited to better align with the continuity of upcoming works

Wade knew painfully little about Spider-Man’s life outside of patrols. He knew that the kid’s first name was Peter – he’d accidentally overheard that once. He knew that Sp- _Peter_ had just graduated high school and moved into his own apartment with a roommate who already knew his secret identity. According to Peter, it had happened partway through high school. There were other things Wade had discovered that didn't deserve mentioning until the kid was ready to bring it up, himself. He knew that the kid spent almost every waking moment of every day thinking about being Spider-Man, and even though Peter had never said anything, Wade had a strong suspicion that Peter felt guilty about all the time he spent not in his suit, living a civilian life. The two of them had been patrolling for almost eighteen months, and the kid seemed to trust him, but valued his privacy above anything else. Wade had never even seen his face. Well, not until now.

It wasn’t that he took the mask off out of burning curiosity, or because he knew it would annoy Spider-Man. It just seemed like the thing to do. Having never had an unconscious super-human teenager sprawled on his couch with technologically-induced amnesia, Wade just did his best.

“And damn, my best is enough to disappoint,” he muttered to himself.

He’d had the presence of mind to stop by where Spider-Man usually stashed a bag of civilian clothes – there was no phone or identifying information, but he found a nerdy t-shirt and old jeans and, generally, everything someone might be wearing if they were the type to duck into an alley, strip, and put on their super-suit. _What a dork._ But he’d quickly, modestly, changed Peter into those clothes and now there was nothing to do but wait for him to wake up, and take it from there.

It took almost eighteen hours, which meant that Wade had enough time to consider their options. What to do? How much would Peter remember about himself? His abilities? A million hilarious options had come to mind. Wade had even spent more than a few minutes considering a tempting possibility – if Peter didn’t remember his life as Spider-Man, he might not have the same objections to Wade un-aliving people. He could just re-train Spider-Man as his partner… the way Wade was initially inclined to be. But the real Spider-Man would have hated that, and the real Spider-Man is just a kid, and Wade respected the hell out of the real Spider-Man, so he rejected the notion. The fact was, by the time Peter had started stirring on the couch, Wade had no _fucking_ clue what to do about this whole thing.

“Woah, holllly shit!” Peter sat upright suddenly, then clapped a hand over his mouth at the use of his language. His hair was a mess and his eyes were wide and confused, taking in the scene around him as his hand dropped down to the couch. Wade had done his best to clean the place, but... “Who are you? Where am I? How did I – woah…” His voice started out comically high, the way Wade knew it to rise when something would surprise them on patrols. “Who am _I?_ ” The kid looked shocked, absolutely lost. A blank slate. A blank slate, and all of a sudden Wade knew exactly what to do. He angled his head to look at the spot directly above him, just to make sure that there wasn’t _literally_ an illuminated lightbulb. Guess not.

“Finally, I was about to take a nap. You’re in New York. Your name is Peter. My name is Deadpool. And _I…_ am your fairy god-brother.” Wade clapped his hands and rubbed them together in excitement. “Welcome to vacation.”

“Welcome to what?” Peter looked around again, a dubious expression on his face.

“Don’t question the fun, kiddo, just have it.” Wade stood dramatically, extending a gloved hand toward Peter. The kid looked at it, then took a moment to take in the sight of Wade standing in front of him. It was clear Peter wasn’t fully buying it – but hey, his mind just got wiped. He may not want to buy it, but what else was on the shelf?

“What’s with the suit?”

“Oh, this ol’ thing? Just something I pulled from the back of my closet for my first day on the job. Does this pleather make my ass look fat?”

“Uhhh….”

“Just kidding, that question’s a trap, never answer that. Now, come on,” Wade waved his extended hand at Peter, who took it, allowing himself to be pulled into a standing position. “I’m sure you have a ton of questions, and I’m not particularly interested in answering _any_ of them, but some things you should know: One, you are a perfectly normal 18-year-old who lost his memory after being mugged. Two, I’m a very famous super-hero who managed to save the day, much to the applause of all on-lookers. And number C, you’ve won an all-expenses-paid vacation from everyday life for a little while, while we figure out how long your memory is gone for. Sound good?”

“Sounds… like something, I guess.” _Yup. Nothing else on the shelf._

“Good! Now, put on your shoes, ‘cause we’re about t-uhhhhhhhhh….” Wade froze in place, one leg still suspended mid-walk. His balance was impeccable, and he held the pose for far longer than Peter felt was truly necessary.

“About to what?”

“I’m about to Google what the _hell_ I’m supposed to do with an amnesiac 18-year-old. Sit tight.” Wade dropped his pose and spun towards a laptop on the other side of the room. It turns out, ‘what to do with an amnesiac 18-year-old in NYC’ didn’t have a lot of results on Google. Fortunately, searching ‘tourism for teenagers NYC’ had _much_ better results, and he picked the very first one.

“So..?” Peter had his shoes on, leaning against the arm of the couch with his arms crossed like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“So, thank God for tourism websites. And to think I’ve always hated these people? Come on, I’ve got something that I _know_ you’re gonna like.”

They got all the way to the very top of an elevator across town before Wade deigned to reveal any more about his Super-Secret Plan for Peter’s Fun Weekend, but by that point it was pretty obvious. The elevator was empty except for the operator, which they were both grateful for – Deadpool escorting a young adult to the 102nd floor of the Empire State Building was bound to raise some eyebrows, but it was almost 1 in the morning at this point and the place was practically dead.

“I sure hope I’m not afraid of heights,” Peter mused, as they stepped out on to the observation deck.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not,” Wade chuckled. The two paused for a moment, just outside the elevator, taking in the initial view. Slowly, the two walked forward, right up to the edge. Wade’s heart was pounding in his ears – while he wasn’t the _most_ afraid of heights, this was quite a ways.

Contrary to popular belief, you can still be afraid of something even if it can’t kill you. He’d spent plenty of time on top of skyscrapers for jobs, but it was worth it when he got paid. But this shit? He looked over at Peter, who was on his toes, leaning as far into the protective fence as he could. The kid was looking over the horizon, city lights reflecting in those ridiculously large eyes of his. Even in the dark, even through the lenses of his mask, Wade could see the wonder in his eyes. Maybe this shit was worth it, too.

“Are you okay, Mr. Deadpool?” Wade realized that Peter was looking right at him now.

“I literally cannot die, kiddo, and therefore I am always okay.”

“Yeah, but you’re so freaked out I can hear your heart beating from here.” Peter cocked his head to the side. “That’s pretty loud.”

_Right. Shit. Super spider powers._

“Oh, right. Yeah, I just… love it up here so much. I wish they weren’t closing so soon,” he lied.

“Me, too. Thanks for bringing me up here.” Peter returned his attention to the skyline, slowly wandering along the railing until he reached the corner, spending the rest of their time taking in the sights from every angle. Wade contented himself to sit on a bench, slightly set back from the edge, and watched the kid.

By the time they were ushered back into the elevator, Peter had begun yawning, and Wade couldn’t fight the urge to mirror him.

“Well, Peter, how was your first day in vacation-land?”

“Pretty great, Mr. Deadpool. I’m still pretty tired,” Wade thought back to the fact that Peter had literally slept most of the last 24 hours, but kept his mouth shut. “Wouldn’t it be cool if you could bungee jump from the top of the Empire State Building? Imagine the rush of the wind, all the way down, and getting pulled up at the last second.” Peter’s eyes drooped a bit and he leaned against the wall. They were in the automatic elevator, now, about halfway down. “What a rush.”

“I think I’ll stick to cocaine, thanks. It’s better for my health.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Wade had something even better tucked up his sleeves (and a stack of cash to afford it.) He’d let Peter sleep on the bed last night, thanking whatever deity was out there for his last set of clean sheets, and took the couch to himself. Sleeping in the suit was not an option, but Wade didn’t think anyone was ready for him to show any skin. Instead, he threw a sheet over the couch and curled up completely underneath it.

He was up before Peter, ate before Peter, but waited until the young adult was up and around before he started making a second batch of pancakes. Full suit and all.

“I’ve already eaten,” he admitted, “but you’re gonna need plenty of food before we head out today.”

“Cool,” Peter had almost as little decorum as Wade, speaking through a mouth full of pancakes. “These are awesome, by the way, Mr. Deadpool.” It made Wade’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t name.  _A kid after my own heart._

“Oh, please,  _Mr_. Deadpool is my grandfather. Then it skipped a generation. You can just call me Deadpool. Or Pool.”

“Okay, Pool.” Peter finished the pancakes in his mouth, fork already loaded and ready to go. “So, what’s the plan for today?” With a dramatic flourish, Wade pulled out a stack of flyers and tossed them across the table. He over-shot a bit, cringing as the papers fluttered right over Peter’s breakfast, but the kid snatched each one out of the air as though it were an after-thought.

“If you want to take a bungee jump off the top of the Empire State Building, Petey, you probably won’t mind a roller-coaster or two.”

“The Cyclone, huh.” Peter turned over a flier advertising Luna Park at Coney Island, browsing the rides and games. “That sounds pretty fun, dude. When can we go?”

“Uh, now?” Peter grinned at that, taking his now-empty plate and rinsing it in the sink while Wade watched, dumbfounded, trying to remember the last time anyone washed a dish right away in his apartment.  _Not even Vanessa_ … Peter looked up from the sink, making a point of catching Wade’s eye.

“I thought you said the suit was for your first day on the job. Isn’t it a little weird for you to wear it on day two, too?”

“Hah, you said tutu,” Wade pointed a finger back at him, “and I’ve got one of those, but it doesn’t really match this outfit. No, it’s best for everyone involved if I just wear the ol’ coveroos.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Just seems like you’re going to be a bit warm out there.”

“You’d be surprised at how well this breathes, actually. I like a little breeze, if you know what I mean, and this suit is designed of accommodate my every need – showing as little skin as possible, and feeling  _sooo_  fresh down under.”

“You must have been an Amish woman in a past life,” Peter chuckled.

“Besides,  _you’re_  wearing the same thing you wore yesterday.”

“Yes, but yesterday I woke up in  _your_  apartment with no memory of who I am whatsoever. It’s not like I packed a suitcase before I arrived – or if I did, I don’t have it now.” Peter threw both hands into the air in an exaggerated shrug.

“Right.” Wade thought about that for a moment. “Right. Well, we’ll get ya something else today. Can’t have Petey-kins wearing day-old clothing like me, can we?” Peter gave him a look at this. “Too heavy on the pet-names? I can ease up.” An eyebrow twitch. “Yup, easing up. If we leave now, does that kill the awkwardness?”

“Pool, I don’t think the awkwardness is ever going to die.”

“Oh, gee, I can only wonder how much that sucks. Let’s get the fuck out of here and try to put it down anyways.”

The park was  _crowded_. Wade knew it would be, had planned for this, but was still a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people in “I Heart NY” t-shirts, wearing sun visors and fanny packs. Frankly, too many fanny packs. And worse than that was the sheer amount of cameras. In most parts of the city, no one questioned Wade’s presence in the suit – weird shit happened in New York. Here, in the most crowded, tourist-y area they could have possibly come to, no one could ignore him.

“Hey!” A young woman approached them, cell phone in one hand and Wade could already see it was on selfie mode. She leaned up to him, holding the phone out so they were both in the frame. “Thanks, Spider-Man!” She said, rushing off back to a group of friends.

“I’m not Spider-Man,” Wade gave her a friendly wave and muttered too quiet for almost anyone to hear over the crowds. Other people were looking, too, and taking photos.

“Who’s Spider-Man?” Peter asked. Wade looked up at the sky, praying for the strength to keep going.

“Who’s Spider-Man? Are you kidding me? The protector of New York City? Fit little guy that runs around in a red and blue suit, swinging from webs, saving the every-day citizen from every-day problems? He’s the most wholesome little super-hero to ever bless this undeserving earth. How could you  _not_ know?” Wade waved a hand in the general direction of the city.

“I guess I forgot about Spider-Man when I lost my memory,” Peter shrugged. Half of Wade wanted to laugh. Half of Wade wanted to cry. All of Wade wanted people to stop taking pictures of the two of them in public. “Must be. Come on, let’s go get the shit scared out of us on a roller-coaster.”

It turned out that Peter loved The Cyclone, and they rode it more than once throughout the day. Sure, Wade found it fun, but he was having way more fun watching Peter. He’d spent enough nights patrolling with Spider-Man to now see how similar they were – but where Spider-Man’s shoulders were always set, as though carrying the weight of the city, Peter’s were relaxed. The kid in front of him now had no worries in the world, no crushing responsibilities. If Spider-Man could see this, he’d probably freak out about all the people he wasn’t saving… but Spider-Man isn’t here, and Peter is, and Peter deserves to have some happiness.

“Do you know what I was like before I lost my memory?” Peter was pondering the ice cream cone in his right hand, the left arm wrapped around a massive stuffed animal. It turned out that both of them were excellent at carnival-style games, and the game runners had eventually asked them to stop playing altogether.

“A little bit.”

“Do you think there are people who are worried about me?” Though he wasn’t known for carefully weighing his words, Wade took a moment to consider. To say yes might make the kid feel guilty, to say no might make him worry that no one in his old life cared about him.

“Nah, they all know what’s up. The doctors said it would be good for your brain to take a vacation from things you’re used to, to…” Wade didn’t practice lying enough. “Avoid brain stress?” He could tell that Peter didn’t believe this fully, but he didn’t ask any more questions about it, either.

“You said tutu, Pool.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Believe it or Not?” Peter looked up at the sign looming over the entrance.

“You’d better believe it, kid.”

“What if I’d rather not?” Peter smirked a little. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, wearing all-new clothes that they’d purchased on the way back from Coney Island.

“Then you’d better keep your mouth shut for those of us who still have wonder and whimsy left in our hearts.” Wade placed a hand over the wrong side of his chest, looking at the kid. Somehow, even through the mask, Peter could see enough of his expression to burst into laughter. “Now get inside, I wanna look at some weird shit and I can’t leave you all alone out here.”

Peter was fascinated by almost every exhibit, spending as much time as he could reading every sign and looking over every piece of paraphernalia, pointing some out to Wade, who took it in like he’d never seen it before. He had, but that didn’t matter so much. The kid was having fun.

“Woah, do you know these guys?” Peter was standing in front of a display that made Wade clench in ways he didn’t like to.

“I sure do, Petey, but they wish they didn’t know me.” Wade forgot for a moment who he was, where he was, and a hint of bitterness slipped out. Peter turned suddenly, looking him in the eye as best he could through the mask.

“What does that mean, Pool? They’re suited up just like you.” Wade looked over his head at the figurines of Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Black Widow, and Hawkeye. He noticed that Bruce Banner was nowhere to be seen, and the corner of his lip quirked. _No room for monsters among heroes, is there, Banner?_

“And that’s about where the similarity ends, lucky for them! You see, Peter, those are the _good_ guys. And I may not be a super-villain, but I’m no hero.” Peter considered this for a moment.

“You’re a good guy, too, Pool.” His voice was entirely sincere, and for a moment Wade was speechless.

“Stay right here, I have the sudden urge to take a leak.” Wade walked off without warning, ducking around a corner in the opposite direction of the restrooms. Peter noticed, taking this into consideration with everything else he was learning about his current situation. Still, Deadpool would say more when he was ready, and right now Peter knew he was just along for the ride. He turned his attention back to the exhibit, his attention drawn to the far edge. Hanging from a sign that said “New York’s Own” was a cardboard figure of what must have been Spider-Man. The figure wasn’t as muscular as the other heroes shown, but his whole body was hidden in a red-and-blue suit, a large string of web extending from one wrist.

“Hello, there.” A mellow voice surprised Peter, who spun and leapt at the same time, landing on his feet with hands in a defensive position. He quickly adjusted his posture, seeing the mild-looking blind man with red, round glasses standing there.

“Aaah! Um. Hello? Do I know you?” At this, the man’s eyebrows furrowed slightly and his head tilted, as if listening to something.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“I- I mean, my name's Peter. And I _might_ know you. It’s just… more of a… I don’t remember anyone sort of. Thing.” He clasped his hands together awkwardly. “I think I got hit in the head really hard?”

“I can tell.” The man’s face relaxed, and he extended a hand to shake. Peter took it instinctively. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around, and I was beginning to get concerned. Glad to see you’re-“ The man froze, and his face turned a little. The long stick and the glasses suggested blindness, but Peter was not convinced. “Excuse me for a moment, will you?” He extended the stick, tapping back and forth as he headed purposefully in the direction that Deadpool had disappeared in.

“Oooookayyyy…” Peter muttered to himself, turning around again.

Matthew Murdock found Deadpool two rooms away, pensively staring at a wall instead of any of the fantastic, strange things around him.

“Did you do this to him?” There was no need for introduction of niceties. Matt stood as close to Wade as was safe, voice low, back to the crowd. “This doesn’t seem your style.”

“Oh, trust me, the _last_ thing I want is to spend my time baby-sitting an amnesiac teenager who doesn’t even remember that he’s a super-hero. But here I am.” Wade looked at Matt, who conveniently ignored the lie, then adjusted his posture. “And here _you_ are, inside Ripley’s Believe it or Not. Is this the blind person equivalent of staring at the ice cream section when you’re lactose intolerant?”

“This is the ‘Spider-Man has been strangely absent for a few days and people are starting to talk’ equivalent of ‘Spider-Man has been strangely absent for a few days, and people are starting to _talk_.’ How did this happen?” Wade shrugged, even though he was pretty sure Matt couldn't tell.

“We were dealing with some muggers in a dark alley at night – all very stereotypical – until one of the guys up and _neuralizes_ him. Like, full on, bright flash of light and everything. I thought this was a super-exciting Men In Black v SpideyPool crossover, but it’s _not_ , and there’s no deneuralizer as far as I can tell. Instead, it’s just the most disappointing Team Red crossover in history.”

“Do you have the, uh,”

“The thing that wiped Spidey’s brains? I know I look like a schmuck in this suit and to you I probably sound like one, too, but I’m not a total idiot.” Wade retrieved the mystery object, still in a pouch at his waist, and handed the thing over to Matt. “It’s about elbow level, your 10 o’clock.”

“Thanks.” Matt took the object without issue, carefully running his fingers over everything. When he came to the toggle switch, he made sure to avoid putting pressure on it. “Any idea how this works?”

“Flashy flashy, then goodbye identity. Best I can do.”

“Do you think it works on the blind?” Matt smirked in Wade’s direction.

“I’d love to see you try, buddy, but probably best if we just leave it be.”

“I can do you one better.” Matt slipped the object into his own pocket. “I’ll find out how it’s made, and see if we can get someone to reverse-engineer a solution.”

“How?” Wade was almost indignant, but mostly embarrassed. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “How do _you_ have the cool friends with cool technology and I just have a bar full of seedy criminals?”

“You’re forgetting who made Spider-Man’s suit. He’s the one with the ‘cool friends’,” Matt put up air quotes. “You should probably head back.”

“Yeah, this has been the longest pee-break _ever._ ” Wade clapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder and strode off, leaving the other man to sniff carefully for the scent of urine.

Peter was standing near where Wade had left him, staring at Spider-Man. Part of Wade wondered if the kid knew something, or was beginning to remember. He sidled up behind Peter, clearing his throat.

“Like what you see?” _I do._

“I can’t imagine what it must be like,” Peter said, turning to face Wade. There was a look on the kid’s face halfway between longing and sympathy. “To take care of a whole city. But I think I get it – if I had powers, I’d want to do that, too. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Ultimate fighting?” Peter smiled and smacked Wade’s arm.

“You’re such a fiend.”

“No argument there.”

“Let’s get dinner.”

“And now you’re two-for-two.”

“By the way, I don’t think you look anything like Spider-Man.”

“God, I love you. Let’s get the hell out of here.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You feel up to going out today?” Wade tilted his head as Peter nodded enthusiastically with another mouth full of breakfast – waffles, this time, which didn’t turn out quite as well as yesterday’s breakfast.

“I’ll be honest, Pool, I’m full of energy. I feel like I could do acrobatics from one end of the city to the other and still not be tired! Which is crazy, of course, because who could do that? But that’s what it feels like?” Wade didn’t even pretend to smile. Kid couldn’t see beneath the mask, anyways. And as much as he loved letting Peter have some fun, have a break from life, he missed his partner in crime fighting.

“Let’s… show you something else today. Not quite as fun as yesterday, but I still think you’ll appreciate it.” This time, Wade took the empty plate from Peter before the young man could stand up to wash it. He placed it in the sink haphazardly, like it belonged, and pointed a finger at the kid. “And _no more chores for you_ , young man. God, I’d be such a great big brother.” Peter nodded amiably, pulling on his shoes. “Okay, pack your tissue boxes and your good, old-fashioned American Outrage. Today we’re having feelings.” He led Peter out the door.

“Wow, I _definitely_ don’t remember this.” Peter stared up at the photo of the Twin Towers, in perfect condition. Another photo, smoke rising from both. Another photo, just one tower, a cloud of dust and debris obscuring the city around it. Then no towers. Just dust. Peter put a hand up, as if to reach out and touch the photo, but something inside him kept him from placing a palm on the glass.

“You wouldn’t, this was back in ’01. I don’t even want to _think_ about how young you were back then.”

“This is really messed up.”

“Ohoho, just wait until you hear about what America did next. Nothing makes me more proud to be Canadian than saying _I’m_ not associated with that mess.”

“It must have been so scary,” Peter wasn’t listening to Wade at all, his eyes trained on the photos, then following to another section of the museum. A fire truck was parked in the middle of the room, surrounded by the evidence of other first responders who stepped up that day. Peter’s eyes widened as he did his best to take in everything, walking slowly through the exhibit, reading every informational sign and scouring the faces in every picture. “Where were the super-heroes when this happened?”

“This was before super-heroes, kid. Nothing but the regular kind, back then.” Wade crossed his arms, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Even here, he was drawing a bit more attention than he’d prefer – and still with some random teenager. People were sure to take notice, and if photos of him with the same kid multiple days in a row surfaced… Well, it would be strange, to say the least.

“Is it weird that I wish I could have been there?” Peter asks, out of the blue. “Like… I just wish I could have been around to help, you know?”

“No, Peter, that’s not weird at all. That’s exactly the kind of person you are.” Wade felt an itch crawl up his spine, like being watched, and surreptitiously peeked behind them. Well, as surreptitious as one can be in a red-and-black suit. At least he’d left the weapons off all weekend. Sure enough, though, Wade spotted the gaze that had gotten him nervous – it had caught Peter’s attention, too.

“He looks super familiar,” Peter said, watching the man approaching them. Wade felt walls of defensiveness rising up.

“I don’t know, some billionaire dude, flies around in a metal suit looking fancy and saving the day. Tony Stank or something like that.”

“I’d expect nothing less from the ‘Merc with a Mouth’.” Tony Stark was, surprisingly, not dressed to the nines. He wore a casual t-shirt and jacket, tight-fitting jeans, and nondescript sneakers. With the beanie on his head, it was enough that most passers-by wouldn’t notice his identity immediately. He shook Peter’s hand. “Name’s Tony Stark. I’ve heard quite a… bit about you in the last few days.” Tony quickly withdrew his hand, shoving it into his pocked and looking at something just over Peter’s shoulder.

“Uh, thanks?” Peter looked at Wade. “What’s going on here?” His voice rose an octave – Wade knew the nervous voice when he heard it. On a totally, _definitely_ unrelated note, he slung a protective arm around Peter's shoulders.

“Tony Stark agreed to do us a favor, kid, and give you a tour of the Avengers facility upstate. If you want, that is. I guess it’s a pretty cool place, but you know, full of goody two-shoes and hall monitors and buzzkills. We could pop molly instead, and that would be _way_ more fun.” Wade spoke over whatever Tony was going to say next and took pleasure from the way Stark had to work to mask his irritation. Peter’s face lit up with wonder.

“Woah, really? That would be awesome, Mr. Stark.” It was Tony’s turn to smile at this. Peter looked up at Wade. “Let’s do it, Pool. Oh. Wait…” His face creased in concern. “Would that be awkward for- for you? Because, you know…” Peter made an awkward pointing gesture between Wade and Tony, then back. Wade did his absolute best to ignore the sensation of his heart melting in his chest, and failed spectacularly.

“That’s,” he cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s nice of you to worry, kid. But I probably won’t tag along on this one.” He withdrew his arm from the kid’s shoulders. Peter considered this for a moment.

“Thank you for the super generous offer, Mr. Stark, but Deadpool has been really great to me the last few days, and I don’t want to ditch him.” Wade and Tony’s eyes locked through the mask. Tony’s eyebrow shifted a millimeter, and Wade’s head tilted an inch to the left in response. The quirk of Tony’s lips was met with Wade jutting out his chin, just the slightest amount. Both seemed to have forgotten Peter, who watched with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“You know, I think we could all get along for a day.” Tony offered. “For the kid’s sake.”

“But juuuuuust for the day.” Wade held up one finger. “Okay, Tin Man, let’s synchronize our watches so we both know when to go back to being publicly annoyed with each other.” He pulled back the sleeve on one wrist, revealing a pink watch.

“You’re making this so hard, Wilson.”

“Ooh, Mr. Stark,” Wade’s voice took on a low, flirty tone. “If we’re going there, let’s make it two days. I don’t think I’ll be able to get enough.” Peter laughed at this, and Tony bit back his sharp response.

“Oookay, let’s get you two in the car and hit the road.” Tony spun on his heel and stalked towards the exit. Wade and Peter followed.

“Wilson?” Peter muttered under his breath as they wound through the crowds. Wade silently cursed Tony for having said it.

“Please, you don’t think Deadpool is my _full legal name,_ do you?”

“Well,” Peter was flustered. “That’s all you told me.” He shrugged.

“Well, so it is, my small friend. But I guess it can’t hurt for you to know more, now that we’re almost- Anyways,” Wade interrupted himself before he could say ‘done’. “My name is Wade Wilson, at your service.” He flourished a dramatic bow in Peter’s direction, almost tripping over his own feet. Peter laughed at him.

“Nice to meet you, Wade. I’m Peter.”

“I know that about you.”

Realizing what he'd said, Peter laughed. Wade fought the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Thanks so much for all the kudos and kind words so far! It's been ~5 years since I've written anything, let alone posted it, and I'm glad to see that there are folks out there enjoying this little thing.
> 
> I have a main tumblr blog under the same url as this account, but my (new, mostly-empty) fandom one is fannishboy and you should feel free to come say hi to me on either one!


	6. Chapter 6

Amnesia or not, Peter was no idiot. He knew something was up, pensively watching the world pass by from the rear passenger seat, only moderately aware of the frosty silence around him. The driver, a man named Happy, had given him a funny look as he got into the car with Dea- no, Wade. Wade. And what 18-year-old kid loses his memory in a mugging, spends the weekend with a red-suited mercenary who was _very_ secretive about his appearance and full name, and ended that weekend in a luxury vehicle being driven to the Avengers Compound with the wealthiest hero known to man? Peter knew that something was very much up, and he suspected it had something to do with his extremely good senses. And that time he almost slipped in the shower this morning, but threw a hand out and stopped falling as it landed flat against the walls of the shower and stuck him there for a moment. Yeah, probably had something to do with that, too.

He was ready to say something when they arrived at the compound, but found himself too star-struck to do anything more than express his amazement for a while. And then they were inside, getting in an elevator, taking it to the top floor, which revealed itself to be a massive open space with no walls, just windows. On the far end was an open kitchen, and in the center there were a half dozen couches all turned in to face each other. And scattered among the couches were…

“Woah, you’re the Avengers!” He looked again. “Plus some!” 

“You found him!” Peter recognized the one that spoke from his photo at the Ripley’s exhibit – Captain America. Steve Rogers. Steve stood, striding towards them with a level of confidence and grace that made Peter stand just a little bit taller.

“Turns out he’s been spending the last few days with babysitter-of-the-year.” Tony jerked a thumb in Wade’s direction. “They’ve actually been doing pretty well, considering.” It wasn’t lost on Peter that almost everyone in the room eyed Wade with distrust, and he stepped a little closer to the man’s side. Whatever these people thought of Deadpool, they didn’t know what he knew. Sure, he was raunchy and racy and had a poor grasp on how to handle his emotions, but he had given up his bed and his house to take care of a mind-wiped (and seemingly super-powered) teenager for a weekend.

“What can I say?” Wade mimed polishing his nails on his chest, and examining them closely. “I’m just that good.”

“Pete, go make some friends,” Tony patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve got to run to the lab for something, I’ll be right back.” He gave Wade a significant look. The mercenary wandered off to the least occupied couch and sprawled on it, making sure to plant his boots on the cushions as many times as possible.

“Hi everyone,” Peter waved nervously, crossing the room to the crowd. “I’m Peter.” From the far corner, from a man he recognized as Hawkeye from the Ripley’s exhibit, Peter barely heard a muttering of “we know.” “I don’t know who I am, though, so sorry if we’ve already met or something.”

“It’s fine, Peter. I’m Natasha.” This woman was sitting upright on the arm of a couch, watching his face intently. “How about a round of introductions?” Everyone else in the room offered a name, though some of them sounded distinctly made-up. Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, King T’Challa, Natasha, Clint, Thor, Wanda, Vision, Bruce Banner. The last one to introduce himself was sitting near Wade – a black man with close-cropped hair and military physique.

“Sam Wilson,” he offered with a wave. At this, Peter’s ears perked up.

“Wait,” he started, pointing a finger at Sam. “Sam Wilson.” He shifted his finger over to where Deadpool was sitting. “Wade Wilson. Any relation?” The two Wilsons shared a look.

“God, I hope not,” Sam looked like he couldn’t decide between being amused and irritated.

“I’m white, so I hope not, too. Because otherwise this would be preeeetty weird.” A long silence followed Wade’s comment. “Nope, now it’s weird anyways.”

“Anyways,” Steve was the one who broke the atmosphere. “We’re glad you’re okay, kid. You’ve had us worried for the past few days.”

“I… have?” Now Peter was sure he was more than what Wade had originally described – not a perfectly normal 18-year-old after all. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s… hard to explain.” This time, Natasha spoke up. “Your mind was wiped about four days ago. You and Wade were… in the same place at the same time. He finished the fight, took you in, and you know what’s happened since then. We started to notice you weren’t around, and that’s when a friend of yours came to us with information.” Peter thought back to the suspiciously attentive blind man at Ripley’s. “Since then, we’ve been working on a way to get your memory back.”

“And now you have it?”

“Yes.” T’Challa spoke up. His accent was captivating, and Peter hung on every word. “Tony Stark and I have used a combination of Wakandan technology and Stark technology to reverse-engineer the weapon that erased your identity. We were able to isolate the technique it used to do so, and have created a device that should undo the damage.”

“I know it might be a lot to take in, kid,” Clint started. “But before your mind was wiped you were-“

“Wait,” Peter held up a finger, cutting him off. “Wait.” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “I’m Spider-Man, aren’t I?”

Peter had thought it couldn't get quieter than before, but now you could have heard a speck of dust land. Wade sat upright on the leather couch he had reclined on, the couch making a loud farting sound as he did. Everyone looked at him.

“WHAT THE-“ Wade spoke what everyone else was thinking. “Fuckcicles, kid, how long have you known?”

“Just… now? But I thought something was weird the last few days and I totally knew something was up.” Peter put two hands up in a not-guilty gesture. “Like how I could hear your pulse at the top of the Empire State Building. Or the time that blind guy scared me and I did three-foot vertical jump. Or this morning, I almost slipped in the shower but my hand stuck flat to the wall when I caught myself. I mean… normal people can’t do that stuff.” Wade groaned and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling.

Across the room, Clint burst out laughing. Natasha smirked, and Steve allowed himself a small chuckle. A moment later, Bucky joined in the laughter, and then Sam, and Bruce. By the time Tony walked back in a minute later, there wasn’t a straight face in the room.

“Did I miss something big?” Tony asked. A new round of laughter met his question, and Clint and Sam both wiped tears from their eyes.

“Young Peter had an excellent revelation while you were away,” Thor supplied. “He’s,” a laugh interrupted his response. “He’s-“

“It seems as though Peter has figured out his hero identity all by himself,” Vision supplied. Even he could see the humor in the situation. Tony’s face was priceless.

“Wait. So I did all this work for nothing? You just _remember_?” Even he couldn’t be mad at the situation.

“No, Mr. Stark. I still have no memory. But memory or not, I _do_ have super-powers, and I kinda figured that out over the last few days. I just… still don’t have any idea who I am _outside_ of that.”

“Oh, thank God, kid. I thought T’Challa and I had just pioneered ground-breaking memory-restoration technology for nothing. At least we still get to use it!” Tony pulled what appeared to be a set of sunglasses out of his pocket. “Put these on, kid.” Peter took them, raised them to his face, and hesitated.

“One more thing.” Peter looked across the room at Wade, who was watching with interest and uncharacteristic silence. “Hey Wade… Thanks for everything.”

“Any time, kid,” The mercenary waved. “See you on the other side.”

Peter put the sunglasses on and turned to Tony. Everyone in the room had sobered a little more, also watching closely. “Will I remember everything that happened this weekend, once I get my identity back?”

“Honestly, kid,” Tony pulled up a slim, rectangular pane of glass that seemed to function as a remote. “I have no idea. Let’s find out. Are you ready?”

“Ready, Mr. Stark.”

“Here we go.” Tony tapped a corner of the remote, lighting the screen, and made a complicated tapping pattern on the glass before gesturing the device at Peter’s glasses.

There was another astonishingly bright flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you had a good time - I did. It was great to start writing again after all these years.
> 
> There will almost certainly be more (and hopefully better) things from me in the future, but I don't publish the first chapter until after I've finished writing the last chapter, so there's no solid timeline on that.
> 
> In the meantime, you can find me on tumblr - main blog @flightlessboy and fandom blog @fannishboy (yes, I do love myself a theme)
> 
> Thanks again!


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